David Fincher and Jake Gyllenhaal (Getty Images)

We’re here to tell you just how to set your DVR before heading out for drinks or dinner–or just watching something better on TV!

David Fincher narrowly missed out on his third Best Director nomination at the Oscars in four years for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo--but we'd argue his career renaissance began before his Oscar nominations, with 2007's Zodiac. This film, starring peak Jake Gyllenhaal and a pre-comeback Robert Downey, Jr. (2007!) is a document of single-minded obsession, the one trait uniting a mysterious serial killer and the journalist pursuing him. If this sounds familiar, it's because it's a rape-free synopsis of Dragon Tattoo--even the foggy, dark conditions are the same, as Zodiac swaps Sweden for San Francisco. It's also by far the best thing anyone involved has ever done! (Okay, Jake's not amazing, but by his standard--but he's pretty good.)

Set your DVR for 10:30pm on IFC.

Many of the stars on the Shanghai-bar cover have big superhero movies in the offing, from the front page (Ryan Reynolds as the Green Lantern, Anne Hathaway as Catwoman) to the inner gatefolds (Jennifer Lawrence in the new X-Men flick, Andrew Garfield in some movie about a spider, or something). The rest have been subject to huge publicity pushes, for various reasons (three Social Network stars and both 2011 Oscar hosts are here) - they're young, but not fresh faces. With the possible exception of "bartender" Robert Duvall - we just don't think he has staying power! - none of these performers seems likely to fade out anytime soon.  We miss Vanity Fair's weird old days, when they'd spotlight Wes Bentley and Monica Potter.

In full, the cover features: Ryan Reynolds, Jake Gyllenhaal, Anne Hathaway, James Franco, Jennifer Lawrence, Anthony Mackie, Olivia Wilde, Jesse Eisenberg, Mila Kunis, Robert Duvall, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Andrew Garfield, Rashida Jones, Garrett Hedlund, and Noomi Rapace. Large image (via VF) here.

ddaddario@observer.com :: @DPD_

Slideshow: What Twitter Taught Us: Taylor Swift Swaps Coffee Dates for Cosmo Dates.>>

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234

Sex and the City 2

What's the story: Also known as Ishtar in Manolo Blahniks. Sex and the City 2 finds Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha (Sarah Jessica Parker, Kristin Davis, Cynthia Nixon and Kim Cattrall) headed to Abu Dhabi for a vacation. Because, sure. Needless to say, cocktails are imbibed, shoes are purchased and old friends—in the form of Carrie's ex-boyfriend, John Corbett's Aidan—show up to cause problems. Plus, Liza Minelli sings "Single Ladies." As you can guess, the reviews for Sex and the City 2 have been so vitriolic that you would think they were complaint letters to BP. Our Rex Reed begins his review thusly: "The only thing memorable about Sex and the City 2 is the number two part, which describes it totally, if you get my drift." Needless to say, he wasn't a fan.

Who should see it: Every woman in Manhattan.

The Price of Persia: The Sands of Time

What's the story: Jerry Bruckheimer is nothing if not resourceful. After building a blockbuster franchise out of a theme park—Pirate of the Caribbean, if you had forgotten—the über-producer heads to the world of video games for his latest hopeful smash, The Prince of Persia. Sadly, Johnny Depp isn't around this time; the swashbuckling hero is played by Jake Gyllenhaal and his 24-pack abs. Anyway, there is a dagger, and a princess, and lots of swordplay. If you're predisposed to this sort of thing, you'll like it; for the rest of us, it'll just be an excuse to find some air-conditioning.

Who should see it: Jack Sparrow.

Also opening this weekend: Jean Pierre-Jenaut (Amelie) brings his whimsy back to theaters with Micmacs; George A. Romero brings his zombies back to theaters with Survival of the Dead.

USER-FRIENDLINESS
Any idiot can use an iPhone—and we know, because we’ve seen it happen. BlackBerry gets a few points for most models’ physical QWERTY keyboards, which are less prone to typos than iPhone’s virtual keys; but Apple controls for this problem with text-correction software, and its completely intuitive touch-screen operation wins the category.
Advantage: iPhone

DURABILITY
iPhones crack when they’re dropped, unless you invest in bulky shells and cases; by contrast, as Wired’s GeekDad blog has pointed out, BlackBerrys still work after being run over by a full-size pickup truck.
Advantage: BlackBerry

BELLS AND WHISTLES
iPhone wins for both built-in features and apps. In addition to the 3GS’s built-in video camera, GPS, Wi-Fi, music and video player, YouTube connectivity and quick Internet browsing, the iTunes App store offers tens of thousands of applications. BlackBerry App World pales in comparison.
Advantage: iPhone

OPTIONS
BlackBerry’s online store currently offers 21 models, with a range of prices and features; iPhone buyers can pick only between 3G and 3GS. BlackBerry is also supported by 45 carriers in the U.S.—iPhone is currently only available on drop-heavy AT&T.
Advantage: BlackBerry

CELEBRITY USERS
As we know all too well, Tiger Woods’ iPhone has gotten him into trouble; but Uma Thurman, Ryan Reynolds, Nicole Kidman, Emma Watson and Michelle Williams have fared better with theirs. There doesn’t seem to be much family loyalty: Miley Cyrus is a devoted BlackBerry user, while brother Trace carries an iPhone; Jake Gyllenhaal uses an iPhone, while Maggie sports the BlackBerry; Beyoncé is a BlackBerry devotee, while sister Solange is an iPhone girl. Many celebs also prefer not to choose: Cameron Diaz, Taylor Swift, Lindsay Lohan, Adriana Lima and Vanessa Hudgens have all been spotted with both devices.
Advantage: Draw (If it seems like everyone in Hollywood, from Amanda Seyfried to Zac Efron, is glued to a BlackBerry, that’s because BlackBerrys are frequently given gratis to celebs; in the past five years, the phone has been on offer in gift bags at the Oscars, the AMAs, the Golden Globes and the Grammys. Apple’s sole spokesmodel is Justin Long.)

Up in the Air

What's the story: Whether you think he's another example of Hollywood nepotism, a slick and heartless huckster, a budding talent on the level of Billy Wilder or, a combination of all three, one thing is certain: Jason Reitman is a force to be reckoned with. Just two years after Juno became a cultural phenomenon and scored him a Best Director nomination, Mr. Reitman returns with Up in the Air, which has already been tapped as an Oscar front-runner. The National Board of Review named it the best film of the year, something both Slumdog Millionaire and No Country for Old Men—the last two Best Picture winners—can lay claim to winning as well. Based on the novel by Walter Kirn, Up in the Air stars George Clooney as Ryan Bingham, a corporate grim reaper who spends his life traveling around the country firing those less fortunate, until a newbie (New Moon's Anna Kendrick) threatens to make his job obsolete. Timeliness alert! The notices on Mr. Clooney have been effusive (what else is new?), but don't sleep on Ms. Kendrick or Vera Farmiga (as the woman he falls for along the way), both of whom could find themselves as Supporting Actress nominees. This is probably one you shouldn't miss.

Who should see it: Ivan Reitman.

Brothers

What's the story: Speaking of timeliness, say hello to Brothers! Jim Sheridan's remake of Susanne Bier's 2004 Danish film focuses on the war in Afghanistan and its impact on our troops. When Captain Sam Cahill (Tobey Maguire) is presumed dead, his ne'er-do-well ex-con brother, Tommy (Maguire doppelgänger Jake Gyllenhaal), becomes the man of the house, watching over Sam's wife (Natalie Portman) and two children. But when Sam turns up alive, you better believe differences occur. The ad campaign for Brothers paints it like a straight-up thriller, but don't believe everything you see on television. According to the middling reviews, Brothers is a lot more introverted than Lionsgate would have you believe.

Who should see it: Barack Obama.

Everybody's Fine

What's the story: The "dysfunctional family holiday film" subgenre gets another member with the release of Everybody's Fine, a remake of Guiseppe Tornatore's Stanno tutti Bene. Robert De Niro stars as a recent widower who visits his estranged children (Sam Rockwell, Drew Barrymore, Kate Beckinsale), hoping to reconnect. The reviews have been tepid at best and eviscerating at worst, so we'd advise you to tread lightly. Kudos, though, to whoever thought to cast Mr. Rockwell as Mr. De Niro's son. Seriously, that's genius.

Who should see it: Al Pacino.

Also opening this weekend: Helen Mirren and Christopher Plummer add to their Oscar bona fides in The Last Station; Cheryl Hines directs Serious Moonlight, written by the late Adrienne Shelly; Matt Dillon and a host of B-listers plot an armored car heist in Armored; and something called Translymania comes out, too.

Brothers
Running time 110 minutes
Written by David Benioff
Directed by Jim Sheridan
Starring Natalie Portman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Tobey Maguire, Sam Shepard, Mare Winningham

Brothers is the latest in a long string of “back from the war and wish I was dead” movies, following on the heels of the still-fresh and far superior The Messenger. An unnecessary remake of a 2004 Danish film with the same title by Susanne Bier, it’s a Cain-and-Abel drama transferred to small-town America about a good brother named Sam (Tobey Maguire) who goes off to Afghanistan at the same time his bad brother, Tommy (Jake Gyllenhaal), returns home from prison. A soap opera ensues with more clichés than one movie can survive.

The two stars look so much alike that at times it’s hard to tell who’s who and which is which. You believe they are brothers, but the buck stops there. Sam is a Marine captain and the apple of his family’s eye. Clean-cut and dedicated to the military, he is headed for his fourth tour of duty in Afghanistan, leaving behind his wife, Grace (Natalie Portman); two daughters; and parents who worship him (Sam Shepard and the wonderful, wasted Mare Winningham). Tensions brew before Sam even boards the transport. Grace, who does not share her husband’s loyalty to a second-rate war nobody understands, is not happy to be left alone with no job and two kids to raise by herself, and everything is doubly daunting thanks to the gung-ho family patriarch, a former Marine who considers Sam a hero and regards Tommy, a tattooed slacker who has served time for armed robbery, as a good-for-nothing family disgrace. Grace, a former cheerleader with ample pluck, does her best to cope, but when Sam is seriously wounded in action and then reported dead, the volatile, irresponsible Tommy takes over his brother’s duties and becomes inappropriately romantically attracted to his sister-in-law. What the Cahill family doesn’t know is that Sam is not dead, just captured and tortured by the Taliban along with a fellow Marine from his hometown. While Sam is starved and buried in a hole, Tommy is painting Grace’s kitchen. Forced at gunpoint to kill his cellmate under threat of death, Sam sacrifices his friend’s life for his own—a decision from which he never recovers. By the time he gets rescued and sent home to his shocked family, he’s so psychologically damaged and physically emaciated that now it is his turn to seek the love, acceptance and forgiveness brother Tommy used to crave. Overwhelmed by guilt, shame and paranoia fueled by the suspicion that Grace and his brother became lovers while he was gone, Sam inspires fear and anxiety in the whole family, and all we can do is wait for events to build to a tragic, near-fatal and inevitable conclusion.

The venerable Irish director Jim (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father, In America) Sheridan’s talent for creating tight, emotional films filled with domestic moral dilemmas seems to have curdled. Brothers addresses the effects of a pointless and unpopular war on the sanity of the men who are fighting it, and on the stunned and confused families who are waiting for them to come home, but there isn’t much psychology in it, and very little contextual drama to unravel. Natalie Portman glows. Sam Shepard glowers and rants. During Sam’s absence from home, the brothers, for all intents and purposes, switch identities. This leaves Mr. Gyllenhaal too abruptly charming as Tommy, and the miscast Mr. Maguire, so wimpy and genteel throughout as Sam, suddenly becomes consumed with such uncontrollable rage and jealousy that he seems subject to fits. These changes are too swift and alarming to be believable. The contrived script by David Benioff fails to strongly develop character, forcing the cast to do more reacting than acting in a stale movie that is less drama than melodrama.

rreed@observer.com

Paparazzi have been mobbing the Broadway performances of All My Sons, which stars Katie Holmes. Meanwhile, the anti-Scientology group Anonymous, which has been protesting outside the theater since previews, has been quarantined down the street. [OK!]

Naomi Foner Gyllenhaal and Stephen Gyllenhaal, parents to Maggie and Jake, are getting divorced. [TMZ]

The final will of party promoter and gossip chronicler Baird Jones, who died in February, has been located in the basement of his East Village apartment building. He left his entire estate to artist Stephen D. Hooper. [P6]

Seems American Idol's Simon Cowell literally drove one of the show's contestants crazy. [US Weekly]

Previews of Christian Siriano's forthcoming maternity line! [The Cut]

Writer Jay McInerney says John Edwards's reported mistress, Rielle Hunter, is "a nice girl"; she was the inspiration for the character of Alison Poole in Mr. McInerney's 1988 novel Story of My Life. [P6]

Gossip Girl's Chace Crawford told the London Independent that the show's racy content is "a weight on my conscience." [Us]

Nice indie couple Reese Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhaal held hands at the Deer Hunter/Black Lips show at Williamsburg's McCarren Pool. [P6]

Rudy Giuliani's estranged son Andrew is suing Duke University over his dismissal from the golf team; the school has hired one of the lawyers who represented a Duke lacrosse player falsely accused of rape. [NY Daily News]

Tommy Hilfiger and Dee Ocleppo have called off their wedding, just two days short of the scheduled date. [P6]

“For the last two years,” he said, “I’ve been chasing tail, sowing my wild oats, literally meeting girls and bringing them up to my apartment. And now”—his voice dropped a decibel or two—“I’ve gone three weeks without having sex. And I’m getting this response from some of my male friends: ‘Oh, good for you, that’s great.’ Almost like that’s more manly, more studly. They’re saying, ‘Oh, that’s cool, you’re laying low, maybe you’re clearing the way for something more meaningful.’”

The foppish owner of one of the city’s more exclusive nightclubs agreed. “Instead of saying you bedded four models, now it’s, ‘Hey, I’m in love,’” he said. “Now it’s like, ‘Check it out—I’m in a relationship.’ They rub that in your face. When he’s known the girl for three days.”

>> This Valetine's Day, Sleep With Someone Married! By Choire Sicha

Are New Yorker’s infamously brutal bachelors becoming lovesick? While it’s too early to tell if the wolves have decided to leave the hunting ground and search for a warm den, there’s no question that the appeal of playing erotic pinball through the city’s beeping and buzzing and blinking female population is wearing thin.

Meet the New Romantics. Perhaps stunned into hibernation over the past decade by the city’s Sex and the City-spawned, stiletto-and-Stoli succubi, New York males are often more apt to be spotted scribbling wistful journal entries while sipping tea at Smith Street cafes these days than prowling the night for nookie. And it’s not uncommon to hear a swain declare he’s itching to meet a woman for a “real” relationship—“but not one from New York.” Their role models are sensitive, wounded mooners such as Owen Wilson, Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Gosling.

Until very recently, to be a single man in your late 20’s to early 30’s was a perfectly acceptable, indeed desirable, station in Gotham society. The bachelor walked tall with a devil-may-care air; he was the pride and joy of the gender. Go on, rough beast, his married buddies would say under their breath, survive as long as you can. Of all New Yorkers, he was willing to be lucky, and by God if he didn’t get lucky. And if he wound up barking at love’s door, so be it.

But today’s bachelor seems in a hurry to flee his lush prison of desire.

Over the past two years, Andrew, a 28-year-old lawyer, has witnessed the bachelor backlash. “Those in relationships have been getting engaged,” he said. “Those who were dating have been getting into relationships; and those who were playing the field have been dating.

“This Valentine’s Day, I’ll be hard-pressed to think of a friend who won’t be out on a date, and that’s definitely the first time I could say that,” he continued, noting that he has only one friend left who is not in a serious relationship.

“Bachelors are the ones who haven’t yet passed on to the higher level of Scientology,” joked 29-year-old novelist and man-about-town Dana Vachon, who added that when he’s around married couple friends, he feels as though the women are checking to see if he has hair on his palms.

In addition, a priapically-prolonged bachelorhood may raise questions about a man’s sexuality (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) “It was much better to be a bachelor in my day,“ said novelist Tom Wolfe. “Because today anyone who is not married or in a flamingly obvious affair is questionable sexually.”

“The bachelor stereotype has lost its luster,” said Adam, a 27-year-old consultant, explaining that he “signed off” the bachelor game about a year ago. Two years of chasing women had gotten the best of him.

One of Mr. Vachon’s pals recently got hitched. The news tore through his group of single friends like a love train. “We all psyched ourselves into thinking we really wanted to be in meaningful relationships,” he said. Mr. Vachon found himself on a trip to Madrid to meet a girlfriend’s parents. Another friend embarked on a “wooing campaign” in Monterey. The sea change reminded Mr. Vachon of a Gore Vidal line about how when he hit his 30’s, he watched so many of his friends “vanish into marriage.”

Speaking of woo: The owner of Magnolia Flowers confirmed that he’s had many more “young, hip” male patrons of late.

For Kenyon Phillips—the ad copywriter and rock crooner we met above—weddings have become a dreaded event. Weddings! The event bachelors once anticipated with bated breath. And, he allowed, “Even to be at a dinner or just going to parties, just going out—the fact that I’m alone, I feel like the odd man out.” He said he recognizes a similar sense of discomfort in his fellow young bachelors: “You can see it in their eyes, and in the fact that they’re alone.”

Mr. Phillips said he knew he’d reached a desperate, crazy place when, after a third date recently, he found himself blurting out, “I really think I’m falling for you.”

Within an hour, the girl was out the door.

At a party a couple weeks back, Sean McCusker, a creative marketing director at a magazine, beckoned a young woman he had met only minutes before to allow him to cook her dinner.

“I don’t mind being single,” he said. “Of course, I would like to be in a relationship. I guess. I like going out on dates with women. And if that includes expensive dinners or trips—I enjoy doing that with a chick that I am into somewhat. Even if I’m not in love with her, I just enjoy that female companionship.”

Kimberly, 27, an assistant who lives in the West Village, agreed to a blind date last month. The guy was a friend of a friend, and had noticed her one night at a bar—he subsequently passed word along that he wanted to “court” her.

“Before we even went on our first date,” Kimberly recalled, “he called me three days in a row. Each time, he wanted to talk about feelings, our families, et cetera, which seemed odd, but innocent.” Come date night: “Before I could even take my coat off, he was asking me about my past relationships and what I’m looking for in a boyfriend,” she said. “He was very open and honest about wanting to find ‘the one,’ and said he wanted to date me because our families were on the same ‘level,’ and I was the type of girl he could marry.”

After the date he insisted on walking her home. Passing his car, he reached in and—voilà!—whipped out a bottle of champagne. She didn’t have the heart to reject his offer to have some bubbly at her place. But once the cork had been popped, the fellow insisted on showing her his match.com profile. Then he asked her if he would indulge her in a good-night snuggle.

“SNUGGLE!” Kimberly said. “I laughed and pretended I didn’t hear him, while trying not to vomit.”

Then there is the now-famous case of Patrick Moberg, the lovelorn Web designer who saw a face he liked on the subway, went home and created the Web site nygirlofmydreams.com, drew her picture, and then posted it with the note “I saw the girl of my dreams on the subway tonight. Please help me find her.” What has become of their romance since appearing on Good Morning America is
anybody’s guess.

And what of the melancholy poetry that rock star Ryan Adams has been e-mailing to Gawker? “JJ,” he wrote, referring to his ex-girlfriend, model Jessica Joffe, “blocked my e-mail. If you like, here is a poem to share.”

“When a woman leaves, she leaves, and leaves,” the poem began, continuing on for another 40 lines.

Recently, Neil Strauss, author of The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, has been working with a competitor on the show American Gladiators who has biceps the size of your head.

“I’ve been watching him use this really sweet love talk,” said Mr. Strauss. “Suddenly he’s kind of mushy, cuddly, lonely.”

Some male beasts are bridling at their brethren’s newfound warm fuzzies.

“They take it too far, in that they cease to be men,” said Christopher Nelson, 31, an aspiring screenwriter. “And it’s not the women saying, ‘Hey, cool your jets, don’t go out, don’t get drunk as much.’ They’re censoring themselves. And that’s annoying. And boring.”

But the New Romantics say it’s not their fault.

“As a guy who’s dating, I’ve felt a certain pressure to be harder than I really want to be,” said Mr. Phillips. “There’s a sense that a girl will call you a pussy or won’t respect you if you blurt out, ‘I love you.’ If you appear too needy, the women are repelled. And if it’s so uncool in these women’s minds to fall in love, and be head over heels and be like the girl and the guy in A Room With a View, well, where does that leave me?”

When men are citing Merchant Ivory films, times are indeed most strange.

Freelance writer Joshua David Stein, who is currently “giving it a go” with a girlfriend in London—keeping with the new trend among New York males of searching for mates outside the five boroughs—chalks things up to a softening of the male identity.

“I’m talking to my guy friends,” said Mr. Stein, who recently published an article in a national magazine about getting his feelings hurt by a woman. “And they are sentimental.”

He added that after a while, the appeal of one-night stands wears off: “Sex can get to be basically like working out.”

Mr. Strauss, however, injected a note of caution into this flowery fog of dreamy dudes.

“The truth is that this type of man may be even worse, and more dangerous, than a sex-chasing player,” he said. “They may be love addicts—who are way worse than sex addicts.”

—Additional reporting by Leigh Kamping-Carder